It was a dark, stormy night in the city of Denton. In an old run-down warehouse on the outskirts of town, a handful of the recently defeated neo-nazi cult made their way to the safety of the shelter. Each man was beaten and battered, having barely escaped the massive cave-in of their subterranean headquarters. In there midst, clad in mud and soot, Ernest von Hexe regarded his fellows with unwavering scrutiny. Uttering not a word, he led the group into the warehouse and turned as three figures approached.
The figure in the lead stepped forward and faced the newcomers, von Hexe in particular.
"Is this it, von Hexe?" The man said angrily.
Von Hexe shifted uncomfortably.
"Yeah, boss." He said coldly. "Those Blinding Light Crusaders destroyed our base!"
"Don't you think I already know that, you fool? I was there!" The man said impatiently. "We must seek vengeance on those who have foiled our plans, but to take them head-on would no-doubt be suicide. We must find some way to infiltrate and penetrate their defenses."
"Very synonymous, Boss." Von Hexe congratulated.
"Silence! Get me today's newspaper!" The man smiled evilly. "I've plans to devise."
Von Hexe nodded at two hooded men who went off into the raging storm, which seemed to foreshadow things to come.
The light played on Robbie's face, his voice low and spooky.
"And when the band got on-stage," he said mysteriously, "the guitarist discovered that his Les Paul had changed into a Yamaha!"
Instantly, the band burst into a scream of terror.
"Oh Robbie, don't do that man!" Tyler said panting. "Don't scare us like that."
"Well you were the one who had the stupid idea of telling ghost stories with the lights off." Robbie shot back.
"The power's out!" Tyler declared.
"You turned off the lights when we weren't looking!" Robbie insisted.
"I was looking." Paul said.
"You were not!" Tyler challenged.
"Browder!" RJ said angrily and flipped the lights on. "What a stupid idea... Next time, don't let anyone see you."
"Hey it's time for the ten o'clock news." Paul pointed out. "Turn it on, turn it on, turn it on, turn it on, and turn it on!"
Tyler picked Paul up and threw him across the room. The others turned their attention to the television.
"Good evening," a newsman declared, "I'm Lawrence de le Mouton with your evening news. This week, Professor Bernard Cooke, a world-renowned cyberneticist has developed a revolutionary microchip, which will increase a machine's productivity. Cooke believes that, by using this chip, he can construct the first sentient machine. The professor will be holding a press conference tomorrow at the National Hall of Science in London. Playing for this historic occasion will be our very own Blinding Light. We take you now live to Blinding Light Manor for an interview."
Suddenly, there was a great pounding on the door. RJ rose to answer, but Paul held him back.
"Don't get it!" He said, terrified.
"Why not, it's just the media." RJ explained.
"Media my clavicle!" John replied. "They're tax-collectors! They know me and Stephen wrote off the space launch as a business trip!"
"You idiot, the house could be bugged!" Stephen shouted.
"Quick, through the emergency exit!" Tyler shouted.
Immediately, John, Stephen, Paul, Tyler, and Robbie bolted into the vast depths of Blinding Light Manor, leaving RJ to face the tax collectors when they broke down the door.
Professor Bernard Cooke put away his copy of the Blinding Light album. He'd seen these clean-cut Christians once before at a winter carnival in Sweden. He'd been so impressed that, when he heard a band would be necessary for the meeting in London, he himself had phoned the band and booked them for the gig. Presently he was in his laboratory and finishing up the documentation for his last experiment.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Relieved to have a distraction from his work, Professor Cooke strode to the door, expecting some CNN reporter or a staff writer for a local newspaper. When he opened the door, three large men loomed over him. Two forced him back into the room while the third closed the door and locked it.
"You are Professor Cooke, are you not?" One man asked.
"Who wants to know?" Professor Cooke said suspiciously.
"This." The man said coldly and pulled a pistol out of his pants pocket and aimed it at the professor.
"My name is Bernard Waldon Cooke." Cooke said hurriedly. "I was born in a trailer park in 1958 in Cuba, a day before Castro came to power. I was banished in 1973 for trying to run my own business in a communist state. I was accepted to MIT in 1977 and studied until the mid 80's. By 1992, I was an accomplished scientist, trying time and time again to develop improvements in cybernetics. I have a cat named Fluffy who has an obsession with relieving herself in the---"
"That will more than suffice, Professor." The man said, lowering the pistol slightly. "If you wish to live to appear at that conference, you will do exactly what I say."
The professor nodded wearily in agreement.
That next night, Robbie and Paul were off double dating with their womens. As it was, The Hankies and Mulch were playing a concert at the local McDonald's. Such a show was clearly a must-see. So while the four friends were off at Mickey D's in a mosh pit, the remaining members of the band headed off to the studio to touch up on tracks for their next album.
After six hours of non-stop work, the band had perfected several tracks. On the way back, they were looking forward to a stop off at the Seven Eleven. It had been a long night, and all of them were ready for a break. But before they reached the Seven Eleven, they saw a neon sign flashing in the distance.
"Hey, what's that say, Browder?" RJ wondered aloud.
"Hold on, let me divert my attention from the highway and look." Tyler said and leaned to his right to have a better go at the sign. "McDonald's PROUDLY PRESENTS the HANKIES and MULCH in CONCERT: ONE NIGHT ONLY"."
"Why don't we pay Robbie and Paul a little visit?" John suggested.
"Oo they'll get ticked." RJ laughed.
"Yeah, well. Someone needs to chaperone them." Tyler laughed and pulled over.
Inside, Mulch was playing their latest hit: "Lawn Mower's Gonna Moe You Down." Robbie and Laura were in the midst of a mosh pit, while Paul and Leigh hung back, afraid they'd get squashed. As the band hammered out a typical series of random power chords, Paul could see the other members of the band slip inside.
"What are you guys doing here?" He asked as the rest of the band approached.
"Hey, we wouldn't be your friends if we didn't crash a date from time to time." Tyler replied.
"I hate you guys." Paul exclaimed.
John, Stephen, Tyler, and RJ just laughed.
Up on-stage, Mulch had just finished their infamous number one smash. Scab, the band's lead singer/front man/only legal U.S. citizen wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
"Alright you vermin," he shouted into the mic, "that was the hit single off our latest album: "Explosive diarrhea." And now, here's an old favorite that ----in' rocks! So get off your ----in' ---es and ----in' ---- rock, you ---- heads!"
The drummer did a semi-competent drum roll, and the band started beating out more random power chords.
"Oo I love this song!" Tyler shouted over the screaming and jumped into the crowd. ""Pocket full of dynamite exploding in my hand, killing all the Mennonites, as Lucifer commands"!"
"Such wholesome lyrics." RJ commented.
"Uh oh. RJ, ex at one o'clock." Tyler said quickly.
RJ sighed and dove into the crowd as Laura approached them, her eyes frantic with panic.
"Someone grabbed Robbie!" She cried.
"He probably just got caught up in the mosh pit." Paul reassured her.
"No, someone grabbed him and carried him off!" Laura persisted.
"This sounds serious." John remarked. "Paul, I think your date's over."
"So is your spot as third chair!" Leigh hissed and ran off.
"Thanks a lot, John." Paul scowled and kicked John in the kneecap.
"Duty calls, Pablo." Stephen reminded him.
"I know, I know, but why on my date!" Paul whined.
After John, Paul, RJ, and Stephen had procured Tyler from a self-initiated crowd surfing contest, they made their way to the parking lot. After several minutes of surveillance, they still couldn't find any sign of their departed drummer. They were about to give up hope and end the story, when Paul called to all from a wall by a stall in the hall of the mall near a ball on a shawl.
"What is it, Leprechaun?" Stephen asked.
"Check it out!" Paul exclaimed and pointed to the ground.
"Wow!" John gasped. "It's the ground!"
"No no no no no no no!" RJ said in rapid succession and knelt down. "Paul's right. There's tread marks, with a thin trail of Gatorade and what looks to be a scorch mark from what could only be a drum stick light saber!"
"By Java, he's right!" Tyler said excitedly.
"Ok, so we know where Robbie was kidnapped from, but that still doesn't help us." Tyler pointed out.
"Are you kids talking about that there car that was taking that there kid off?" A hobo asked, strolling up to the five remaining Blinding Light Crusaders.
"Yes! Did you see them?" John asked.
"'Fraid there's not much I can tell you." The hobo replied. "Their license plate number was 495 JFK. They looked like a bunch of neo-nazis or something. Said they'd captured some professor named Bernard Cooke who's a world-renowned cyberneticist. Yeah, they were gonna turn that there kid into some kind of robot and rule the world or something. Sorry I couldn't help you kids out."
The Blinding Light Crusaders nodded sadly.
"Got any change?"
In a deep cavern in a secluded jungle on a remote island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean thousands of miles from civilization, there was probably something interesting going on. But back in the dark warehouse, two large thugs, led by Ernest von Hexe himself, carried Robbie Greer into a dark room.
"You'll never get away with this!" Robbie said defiantly. "My girl friend will hunt you down, and she's got sharp nails."
"I am well aware of Miss Insley's scratching factor." A voice said coldly from the darkness. "But by the time they've located our local location locally, our plans will have already destroyed your friends. Hans, Fritz, take Mr. Greer to the cyberclonomotron.
"What a crappy name!" Robbie laughed as he was dragged off. "You may be a master criminal, but you sure are a corny one."
"You won't be so cocky when you're dead!" The voice shouted. "Wow, I need a name."
In the Chronicfaith, I mean BlindinglightmoBlindinglightmobile, the other crusaders were driving around trying to find the license plate the hobo had given them. After several hours and several dozen coffee slurpees, they'd come up dry.
"Wait a second." RJ snapped his fingers. "Paul, couldn't your dad look up that license plate number on the police department data base."
"Hey, yeah!" Paul lunged for the phone and quickly called up his dad. "Hey Dad? Yeah it's me. Listen, I need you to look up a license plate number. 495 JFK. Ok? Ah ha. Right right right. Johan Der Magen, 1317 Hellcat Boulevard. Got it. Thanks, Dad. Uh huh? Uh huh? Yeah. I'll bring home some veal for breakfast. Alright, ok, bye."
John gave Paul a disgusted look.
"Veal?"
"My family's weird." Paul sighed.
Tyler, Stephen, and RJ nodded.
Bernard Cooke looked up as Hans and Fritz brought Robbie into his makeshift laboratory. Robbie's eyes narrowed at the professor.
"How can you help these brand muffins, Professor?" Robbie said disdainfully as his German pals strapped him to a large apparatus.
"Forgive me, Mr. Greer. I have no choice." Professor Cooke replied.
"Soon, Mr. Greer, you will help rid us of the meddlesome Blinding Light Crusaders once and for all." Von Hexe snickered.
Robbie glowered at his captors as Professor Cooke flipped a large control switch. Immediately, bolts of electricity began emanating from the apparatus. Robbie screamed girlishly as various electrodes emerged from all directions and penetrated his flesh.
"It's alive!" Von Hexe laughed demonically. "It's alive!!"
"Wasn't he already alive?"
"Shut up!"
"GET YOUR MOTOR RUNNING
HEAD OUT ON THE HIGHWAY
LOOKING FOR ADVENTURE
AND WHAT EVER COMES OUR WAY
YEAH I GOT TO GO MAKE IT HAPPEN
TAKE THE WORLD IN A LOVE EMBRACE
FIRE ALL OF YOUR GUNS AT ONCE AND
EXPLODE INTO SPACE."
"Hey turn that crap down. We're here." Tyler exclaimed.
The others nodded, as RJ turned the radio off.
"It sure does look like a house of evil." John whispered.
"Stephen hearing powers activate." Stephen said quietly. "Robbie's in there alright."
"Can you hear him?" Paul asked.
"No." Stephen replied. "But I can hear some people talking about him in thick German accents."
"It must've been those neo-Nazis that grabbed him." RJ concluded.
"I thought we killed all of them after the cave-in." Tyler protested.
"Would you guys shut up?" Stephen said frustratedly. "I can't concentrate."
After a few moments of silence, Paul began whistling the Jeopardy theme. Soon, John, Tyler, and RJ joined in. Stephen growled and broke out his guitar light saber. With one power chord, he sent the remaining Blinding Light Crusaders sprawling. Sighing with relief, Stephen put his guitar away and moved forward, toward the foreboding structure ahead.
As he made his way through the underbrush, Stephen caught sight of something coming toward him. Bracing himself against a large tree, Stephen pulled out his light saber guitar and prepared for battle. Whoever this neo-nazi was, he would pay dearly for bandnapping their drummer. As he drew closer, the shadow slowed down and pulled something long and slender out of his pocket. Stephen tensed and then leapt at his foe. In one fluidic motion, Stephen lashed out with the light saber and sent his opponent reeling. But his adversary recovered quicker than Stephen expected and landed a crushing blow to Stephen's jaw.
Grunting with anguish, Stephen narrowed his eyes and hammered out a scorching guitar solo. The shadow clutched his head in pain as the high-end began piercing his brain. Without a word, the figure pitched forward and lay on the ground, unconscious.
As Stephen moved forward to revive his opponent, Tyler, Paul, John, and RJ rushed forward.
"That was a pretty dirty trick!" Paul shouted.
"I know! That light saber hurts!" John said, rubbing his shoulder.
"So who'd ya smite?" RJ asked.
Stephen knelt down and jabbed his opponent with a stick.
"Its, its," Stephen gasped, "its Robbie."
The others gasped in unison and quickly helped their fallen comrade to his feet.
Back at Blinding Light Manor, the band was relaxing over four large pizzas and a kung fu movie marathon.
"Sorry again about beating the crap out of you earlier." Stephen apologized.
"Eh, forget about it." Robbie threw back his head and downed another slice. "The importent thing is that we stopped those neo-nazis from committing their evil plans."
"I know." Paul sighed. "Did any of you notice how quickly they surrendered?"
"Hey, now that you mention it, they did." RJ spoke up. "Wonder why they went and did that."
Robbie blinked mechanically several times and smiled.
"Maybe they just realized that the fruits of crime and sedition are rotten and lead to the expulsion of the soul through the bowels of their misdeeds."
John, Stephen, Paul, Tyler, and RJ gave Robbie an inquisitive look.
"Pizza fight!" Paul shouted and threw one of the boxes at RJ.
"Oh you wanna start something, Pablo?" RJ got up and threw a slice at Paul.
"Oh it's on now, woman." Paul dove across the table and lunged at RJ.
"Oh master Paul, good show. Good show indeed."
Beardy laughed hardily as the others joined in on the food fight.